


Call Me Yours

by freshpageonthedesk



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Beach, Artist Clarke Griffin, Beach Holidays, Clarke and Lexa pretend to be in love, Clarke's parents are a little old-fashioned, Clexa, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Getting to Know Each Other, One Shot, Rich Clarke Griffin, Secret Identity, Then actually fall in love, actress lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshpageonthedesk/pseuds/freshpageonthedesk
Summary: ~ "So how do I address her?"Octavia gives her a weird look. "Just Clarke, of course. She's your girlfriend, remember?" ~In exchange for some much needed money, Lexa agrees to spend a weekend holiday at the beach with some aristocratic girl she has never even heard of. Her job is to pretend to be her girlfriend, so that her parents won't give her away to a guy that she doesn't want to marry.It's just for one weekend. How hard can that be, really.But then it turns out this girlfriend of hers has really pretty eyes...
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 32
Kudos: 304





	Call Me Yours

“You want me to do _what?”_

Lexa’s fork hovers over her plate, a blob of ketchup dripping off and smudging her untouched napkin without her noticing. The girl in front of her nervously licks her lips and shifts her weight in her chair. 

“Okay, so Finn is going to ask for Clarke’s hand…” 

“Yeah, I heard you the first time,” Lexa cuts through her, with her fork still in the same position and the red stain on the plain white napkin growing in size every second. “My question is more like: _what???”_

Octavia lets out a deep sigh and takes her time to wipe the mayonnaise off the corners of her mouth in an attempt to avoid Lexa's gaze. “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask…” 

Lexa scoffs, then finally brings herself to put the fork back on her plate. She’s only halfway through her portion of fish and chips, which was a treat from her neighbor and good friend Octavia – well, she now knows what gave her the honor – but she doesn’t really feel hungry anymore. 

“…but if you don’t do it for her, then at least do it for me.” Octavia gives her this puppy-eye look that has always been hard to ignore. She knows perfectly well that she can usually get almost anything done from Lexa if she only begs hard enough, yet this idea is so insane that the brunette merely shakes her head in disbelief. 

“I don’t even know this girl,” she objects. 

“Okay, what do you need to know? Just ask away, I can tell you everything you want,” Octavia offers with a shrug as she again dives into her portion of chips like nothing happened at all. 

Lexa sighs and desperately buries her face in her hands. In doing so, however, she accidentally plants her elbow in the middle of the wet ketchup spot. While cursing under her breath, she tries to rub off the mess using the same napkin, but only ends up making it worse. “See, how am I supposed to look like a suited partner for the daughter of a baron?” she blurts out in frustration. “I barely have enough money to make it to the end of the month and I can't even eat fastfood properly, let alone I know how to eat caviar or lobsters or whatever it is these people have for dinner on a regular Saturday evening. Why _me?”_

“Because you’re a good actress and you're gay, so you can play that part convincingly. Plus, her parents don’t know you yet so you can tell them whatever you want.” Octavia leans closer to her friend over the table. “Come on, Lex, it’s just for one weekend. It will be over before you know. And Clarke told me that she’s prepared to pay you a hundred pounds per hour if you do it.” 

“I-” Lexa forgets what she wanted to say. _A hundred pounds per hour to spend a weekend in a fancy mansion by the coast with free food and butlers?_ Her head tries to do the math, but only reaches the conclusion that this is _a lot_ of money for, well, actually it’s just a mere job to her. 

“Okay, so what exactly does she want me to do?” Lexa asks as indifferently as she can, meanwhile picking up a chip and studying it for a moment in a bid to look uninterested. Naturally, Octavia can see right through her, but all she does is smirking.

“Just play pretend that you’re her girlfriend,” she says. “You don’t actually have to _be_ her girlfriend, if you know what I mean. You just have to be there during dinner and stuff, so that she can introduce you to her parents and make them believe that she’s gay and that she’s in a serious relationship and that she has her life together to such an extent that they won’t give her away to Finn.” 

Lexa thoughtfully chews on her chip. The idea still seems ridiculous to her, but for more than three thousand pounds, it sounds like a fair deal. Besides, she can _really_ use the money – if she doesn’t find a job soon, she’ll be in severe trouble by next week. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she and her younger brother have a jar of pickles for dinner.

“I didn’t know arranged marriages were still a thing these days,” she mumbles.

“It’s not really like that,” Octavia explains as she shoves another handful of chips into her mouth. “Her parents would let her find a partner for herself, but she’s almost twenty-five now and slowly becoming a shame for the family because, well, in these higher ranges, people start making assumptions if you can’t commit to anyone for such a long time. And Clarke is their only daughter and they know Finn is fond of her, _and_ he’s the son of a reputed viscount so they’ll think he’s perfect for her. And I mean, he would be, but she doesn’t love him and she _so_ does not want to marry him and you _have_ to help her out.” The way she says it makes it sound like a desperate pleading, which simplifies things for Lexa when the actress slowly licks the ketchup off her fork. 

“Well, alright, I’ll do it,” she decides with a sigh, as if this is a huge sacrifice whereas all she can think is _over three thousand pounds, over three thousand pounds, oh god this is great_. 

“Really?” Octavia gets up from her chair and runs around the table to hug her friend. “Oh Lex, thank you so much, really, you’re an absolute pro for doing this.” 

“Ah, well.” Lexa shrugs nonchalantly. “You would do the same thing for _my_ friends, so.” 

That leaves Octavia with a concerned expression on her face, whereas Lexa's food suddenly tastes twice as good.

* * *

Lexa only needs one hand to count all the times she has been to the coast, and even then she would still have fingers left. _When_ she’s been there, however, it was either with school or either for Aden’s birthday, and then she has only seen the busiest and cheapest piece of coast line where you have to get up at six if you want to secure yourself a spot on the beach. Now, they are leaving all the touristic towns behind and drive to a place where buildings are scarce and large dunes are hiding the sea from view. When they do get a glimpse of the water, though, Lexa can see that it is crystal blue and the beach is plain yellow and unscathed. She softly whistles through her teeth. 

“Any chance I _actually_ get to be her girlfriend?” she asks Octavia, who’s driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other out of the window, which she turned down to let the sea breeze play with her long black hair. 

“Don’t make yourself illusions,” her friend responds with a smile. “Once she’s told her parents that you’ve broken up with her, you won’t get to see her anymore, so you better enjoy all this luxury now that you have the chance.” 

Lexa bites her lip and nervously pulls down her dress for what must be the hundredth time today. Suddenly, she's very aware of every wrinkle in her clothes, every slight hint of a spot on her shoes, every tiny remainder of a scratch that Aden's malicious cat Titus left on her. As an actress, she's on a stage all the time, yet she has never felt more exposed than she does right now. 

“You look good,” Octavia assures when she descries her friend's worries. “Clarke can better be grateful to have a girlfriend like you.” 

“You did tell her about my background, right?” Lexa inquires. They are taking a turn off the main road that leads them more towards the beach, which probably means that they are approaching the Griffins’ vacation mansion. With every mile closer they get, Lexa’s heart starts hammering faster in her chest. This is probably the most exciting and craziest thing she’s ever done in her mostly rather uninteresting life. 

“Not the details, but she does know that you’re not a viscount’s daughter, yeah.” 

Lexa wants to tell her that this is not _nearly_ enough information to warn Clarke for what she will be dealing with, but she keeps her mouth shut when a huge wooden house comes into view. It is mainly painted white, although it has some blue accents in the shutters, the balconies and the door frame. There is an enormous terrace on three sides of the house, two of which give a great view on the sea and the beach, that starts immediately after the house’s backyard. Overall it is simply breathtaking. 

Octavia parks in front of the house, then turns down the engine and looks at her astounded friend. “Are you nervous?” 

“It’s good that I’m not wearing pants, otherwise I'd pee them right now,” Lexa answers without taking her gaze off the palace in front of her. “God, Octavia, this is such a bad idea.” 

“It’s not.” Octavia gives her friend an encouraging squeeze in her knee. “Clarke is alright, really, she may be rich by appearance, but in her head she’s just a young girl that wants to see more of the world than her parents allow her to. She’ll help you through this.” 

“Well, I guess I have no other choice.” After a deep inhale, Lexa opens the door and gets out of the car. Octavia follows her out and helps her friend to get her suitcase out of the trunk. “How do I address them?” Lexa whispers urgently when they are walking over the driveway towards the front door. 

“Lord and Lady Griffin.” She rings the bell once. 

“And Clarke?” 

Octavia gives her a weird look. “Just Clarke, of course. She’s your girlfriend, remember?” 

For a moment, Lexa is afraid that she’s _actually_ going to pee her pants – well, her dress – when she hears footsteps approaching down the hall. She straightens her back and is almost certain that her heart is going to jump right out of her chest when the door slowly cracks open. 

It is not baron Griffin or his wife who lets them in, however, but a short blonde girl in a cute white dress that hugs her in all the right places. Lexa gulps when she sees her – Octavia didn’t warn her for how beautiful her fake girlfriend would be – but somehow she still manages to reach out her hand. She’s on the verge of introducing herself when Octavia hastily slaps her hand away and steps in between the two girls. 

“Clarke, hi,” she says overly happy while she flings her arms around the neck of her childhood friend. “So good to see you. Look who I brought with me,” she adds, with a meaningful look at Lexa. 

“Hey,” Lexa says a little uncomfortably, now realizing that Clarke’s parents might hear them. “I… have missed you.” 

“Me too. I’m so happy that you’re here,” Clarke says joyfully, although she too just reaches out her hand for Lexa to shake and gives her an apologetic look. 

“I really wish I could stay longer,” Octavia pouts in order to break the awkward silence between them. “But sadly I have to leave for work. Clarke, don’t forget to make over my dearest greetings to your parents.” 

“I will,” Clarke promises, then she steps down her front porch to lift Lexa’s suitcase. “Let me take this for you, I’ll bring it to yo- to our room.” 

“Oh, thank you,” Lexa says automatically, before she realizes that she probably shouldn’t let the daughter of a baron carry her suitcase upstairs. “I mean, _I’ll_ take it, don’t worry,” she adds hastily. “If you can show me where our room is.” 

“Sure, come in.” Clarke pushes the door open further to let her in, then glances at Octavia. “I’ll call you later, thank you for bringing her.” Both Octavia and Lexa know that she isn’t only talking about the car ride.

“No problem. Have fun,” Octavia wishes them with a naughty wink that makes Lexa roll her eyes. 

Clarke closes the door, then scans Lexa up and down. Again, the brunette is very aware of her flaws, like her hair that is probably messed up by the wind, and the weird fold in her dress somewhere by her thigh. Clarke’s dress is no doubt custom-made with how perfectly it fits her, and there’s no way she’s done her own make-up that ideally accentuates her eyes and cheekbones. Her hair looks just as flawless; soft blonde and slightly curly, with two small braids that run from her temples to the back of her head and keep all her other locks in position. 

“So,” she says firmly. “It’s on the first level, with sight on the sea, I’m sure you’ll love it – follow me.” 

They are already up the first few steps when a woman appears in the hallway. One glance at her tells Lexa that this has to be Clarke’s mother – even in comparison to the impeccable blonde girl, this woman is dressed like a queen. 

“Clarke, dear, you can do that later,” she says in a slow, almost lilting voice, with a posh accent. “Bring Lexa in first. Your dad and I are looking forward to meeting her.” 

Clarke turns on the spot, then nervously licks her lips. “Sure, mom.” 

Lexa abandons her suitcase down the stairs and deeply wishes that the baroness will go back into the living room so that she can at least say _something_ to Clarke in private. Unfortunately, the woman only takes a small step back to let them pass while she meticulously keeps her eyes on what she believes is her future daughter-in-law. Clarke doesn’t dare to look at Lexa when she takes her hand and leads her to the living room. “Mom, dad, this is Lexa,” she announces, without letting go. Maybe it should be uncomfortable to hold hands with someone you met only seconds ago, but Clarke’s skin is pleasantly warm against her own and it somehow feels like the only safe thing in this gigantic room full of ridiculously expensive ornaments and luxurious furniture. “Lexa, these are my parents,” the blonde girl continues unnecessarily, then she drops Lexa's hand. Her warmth is replaced by a sort of chill that sends the brunette's nerves into panic. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Griffin,” Lexa manages to say. Again, she automatically reaches out her hand. She has no clue about aristocratic etiquette and doesn’t know what to do with her body, like, should she make a reverence or something? To her relief, the woman just accepts her hand and smiles cordially. 

“Oh please, it’s Abby for you,” she says warmly, while her husband gets up from his chair to shake Lexa’s hand next. 

“Nice to meet you, miss Woods. Please make yourself at home here.” 

“Thank you.” Lexa looks around the place a little awkwardly. What these people don’t know is that she can never make herself at home in a castle like this, since _home_ to her is a small, old apartment where you can’t take a few steps without tripping over one of Aden’s toys. As she doesn’t really know what to do or say next, she glances at Clarke out of the corner of her eye, looking for help. Luckily, the blonde girl clears her throat. 

“Can I offer you something to drink?” she asks, with a sweet smile that is supposed to make her feel more at ease, but only makes her stress harder. _What do you say when a millionaire asks you what you want to drink?_

“Some water is fine,” she says politely, hoping that this doesn’t somehow sound rude. But yeah, what else should she do, ask for champagne as if that’s no big deal? Right now, she deeply wishes that Octavia would have taught her more about this kind of things, but then of course her friend has been hanging out at the Griffins ever since she was a toddler and to her, all of this is common sense. 

“Not a drinker, huh,” Clarke’s father guesses with a smirk around his lips. 

“That’s a good thing,” Abby interferes. “Then at least my daughter won’t be married to an alcoholic.” The way she looks at her husband at these last words tells Lexa that she’s probably making a remark about the baron’s drinking behavior. The man snorts something in response.

Lexa is expecting Clarke to leave for the kitchen, but instead she snaps her fingers and some butler comes dribbling into the living room. “Sterling, bring us two glasses of water, please,” she commands. The butler makes a quick bow and then leaves again. Lexa blinks her eyes once, a little overwhelmed by this entire scene in which she can't feel any more out of place. But then Clarke takes her hand again and Lexa’s attention is back to her so-called girlfriend. _And god, she’ll have to get used to how pretty she is._

“Take a seat,” Clarke offers, even though _she_ is the one who leads Lexa to a couch and pulls her down next to her. Sadly, her parents join them in the armchairs opposite the couch and keep observing the actress with examining, almost piercing gazes. Because it makes her feel so uncomfortable, Lexa carefully tries to imitate Clarke’s sitting position – one leg over the other, her dress neat and straight, one hand on her thigh and the other somewhere in between them, not far away from Clarke’s. 

“So,” Abby starts. “Tell us a little bit about yourself, Lexa. We don’t know much about you, Clarke only told us the basics yesterday since she was too shy to come out earlier.” She teasingly glances at her daughter, who clenches her jaw.

Lexa has to repress a gulp, and somehow she also manages not to stare at Clarke for help, even though she feels the blonde stirring next to her. “Well, originally I’m from Manchester,” she tries. It’s the truth, although she grew up in a tiny apartment in the outskirts of town and not in a large countryside villa like these people are probably suspecting. 

“Manchester.” Clarke’s father nods in interest. “Then I suppose you know the Sydneys?” 

“Oh, uh, I was only a child when we moved away, I don’t really remember much about it,” Lexa says with a shy blush. She already knows that she’s going to mess this up terribly if these people assume her to have any connections with other aristocratic people in no matter what place in England. 

“Dad, please, her parents are _doctors_ ,” Clarke interrupts, careful to put a lot of emphasis on the last word so that Lexa will certainly catch it. “They don’t skim noble parties like you do, they work in a hospital.” 

“Right,” Lexa agrees, feeling relieved. She doesn’t know much about medicine either, but _not much_ is still more than her non-existent knowledge about English barons. _God, it looks like those one hundred pounds an hour won’t come as easy as she thought_. “My mom is a cardiac surgeon and my dad is an emergency doctor,” she makes up. “They often have to work late nights so I’m home alone with my brother a lot.”

“Oh, you have a brother,” Abby admires, her face lighting up in happiness. “How old is he?”

“He’s twelve and his name is Aden. We get along very well.” At that moment, the butler returns with their drinks; two glasses of water with each multiple straws, a lot of ice cubes and two slices of lime. When Lexa politely thanks him, he bows to her before he returns to the kitchen. However, he’s immediately summoned back by the baron, who then starts a discussion with his wife about what kind of drink they want for aperitif. Whilst they’re not paying attention, Clarke puts her hand on Lexa’s knee and leans closer to her ear. “I told them you’re a med student,” she whispers urgently. “You’re finishing your internship this year and graduate as a doctor next year.”

“Okay,” Lexa whispers back, her eyebrows slightly raised.

“Sorry.”

Clarke quickly leans back because her mother is spying on them with a huge smile on her face. “Oh, don’t mind me,” she says joyfully, as she folds her hands in her lap and tilts her head a little to the side, clearly enjoying to see her daughter being affectionate with whom she believes is her girlfriend.

Both Clarke and Lexa have rosy cheeks when they bend forward to take their glasses at the exact same moment.

* * *

“I’m really sorry for all this,” Clarke sighs when she closes the door of her bedroom a little over three hours later. The dinner has been a long, painful interrogation by Clarke’s parents – though mainly by Lord Griffin – up until the point where Lexa actually stopped being herself but decided to make up a fictional character for herself instead. Lexa Woods (Griffin to be) is very focused on her studies, although she likes to travel and spends her free time playing sports – golf and tennis. She met Clarke through Octavia a little over three months ago, and their relationship has been slowly developing ever since.

It’s not that hard to imagine being in love with Clarke – in other circumstances, Lexa might have decided to walk up to her and ask for her number. In this case, she can just pretend that she _actually_ did that, and is now desperately hoping for her girlfriend’s parents to like her.

“Don’t worry,” Lexa reassures. This is the first time that they get to talk in private, without keeping up appearances that they know and are dating each other. “So,” Lexa continues as she looks around the bedroom – which is enormous and luxurious, but what else did she expect – and then turns to Clarke with an impish grin on her face. “Who are you?”

The blonde girl chuckles. “Well, at least you _do_ know some embarrassing stories of when I was ten, thanks to my loving mother.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame I wasn’t there when you fell face down into your birthday cake in front of all your friends. I bet that must have been hilarious,” Lexa teases.

“ _Don’t_ ask Octavia about that,” Clarke warns. In order to change the subject, she then walks over to the bed. It’s large enough for three people to sleep in, but she still looks a little uncertain. “I’m afraid we won’t get out of sleeping in the same room,” she apologizes. “But don’t worry, I can sleep on the floor.”

Lexa arches her brow. “You mean that _I_ can sleep on the floor.”

“No, you’re my guest, it’s about natural that you get the bed.” Clarke opens her wardrobe and rummages through it until she has found some extra sheets for herself.

“Really, don’t,” Lexa stops her. “For me it’s totally okay if we both sleep in the bed. Because if you would just be a friend, it wouldn’t even be weird.” When she sees Clarke’s eyes widen, she hastily adds: “I mean, you _are_ just a friend, of course. You know what I mean.” Somehow this conversation with Clarke alone is even clumsier than it was with her parents around. The brunette awkwardly scratches her neck.

“Yeah, don’t worry.” Clarke puts the sheets back into her closet, then gives her a shy smile. “You’re right, it shouldn’t be this weird.”

Lexa returns her smile and allows herself to look into Clarke’s eyes. They are blue like the sea, maybe even bluer. Because Clarke keeps holding her gaze, she doesn’t dare to look away, even though they haven’t said anything for so long that it is starting to get peculiar.

A firm knock on the door makes them both startle. Lexa quickly bows over her suitcase and zips it open, whereas Clarke sits down on the foot end of the bed. It is Abby who enters, with two cups of something that is visibly steaming.

“Do you like tea?” she asks Lexa. “I didn’t know which type you prefer so I took cinnamon, that’s Clarke’s favorite, but if you don’t like that, I can always get you something else.”

“Oh no, cinnamon is fine, thank you very much.” Lexa says as she accepts the cup.

“Now you two sit down for a minute, I have something to discuss with you,” Abby announces. By lack of another alternative, Lexa takes place on the bed next to Clarke and makes sure to sit as close as she would when they would actually be dating. They both look up expectantly – and in Clarke's case, also a little warily.

“First of all, I must apologize for my husband’s behavior. He always tends to ask too many questions and make people uncomfortable, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you. We do like you, Lexa, you seem very nice and I can see that you make Clarke happy.”

Clarke quickly sips from her tea while Lexa maintains her straight face like a master. “Thank you, Lady Griffin.”

“It’s Abby for you, seriously,” Abby reminds her. “Now that being said, we should talk about you two sleeping in the same room.”

Clarke almost spits out her tea and looks up at her mom in disbelief. _“What?”_

“I know,” Abby continues. “I know you’re twenty-four and we’ve had this conversation before and Lexa can’t get you pregnant but that is exactly why you shouldn’t forget that you always have to stay safe, you know, with all these scary diseases and-”

“Oh, Jesus, mom.” The blonde girl dramatically buries her face in her hands in embarrassment.

“No, I agree,” Lexa says calmly, with an earnest expression. “Although as a med student, I can guarantee you that your daughter is safe with me.”

Abby gives her an impressed and appreciating look. “Of course. Stupid of me. Well, then I’ll leave you two.” She gives them another smile that is solely returned by Lexa, then walks out and closes the door behind her.

“Okay, do you see this floor?” Clarke asks, pointing to the parquet under their feet. Lexa gives her a puzzled nod. “The living room is right under here, and then there’s a cellar, but if you go even lower, about as low as you can dig, _that’s_ where I am right now.”

Lexa laughs. “Well, don’t be ashamed. She’s just worried about you, I think that’s pretty sweet.”

“She could try to be sweet in a less embarrassing way.” Now Clarke dares to look at Lexa again, and as she does so, her hair falls over her shoulder to the front and Lexa notices once again how beautiful her natural curls are. “You’re really good at acting, by the way.”

“Thanks, that’s my actual job.” Lexa takes a sip from the tea, which is a little too hot but tastes wonderfully - a little like a Christmas evening, but then in the middle of summer.

Clarke’s eyes widen. “You’re an actress?”

“That’s what you could call it, yeah. Although it’s not as cool as you think – basically it’s just going to auditions and getting rejected all the time. A little like Joey in Friends, except that I solely do theater and no television shows.”

“That’s still cool,” Clarke says admiringly. “I wish I had a job like that.”

Lexa skeptically raises her brow. “Believe me, you don’t. It’s a really unstable life. You never know when you’re going to work again. Whereas you, you have everything you can wish for.” She peers out of the window to the sea, that is rolling over the damp sand and leaving all sorts of shells behind. Meanwhile the evening is slowly starting to fall and it paints the sky in all possible shades of orange.

“Do you want to watch the sunset?” Clarke asks when she catches her looking.

“I think I already am,” Lexa notes. “This view is amazing.”

“I meant, from the beach,” Clarke clarifies with a smile. Without waiting for an answer, she takes Lexa's hand and pulls her to her feet.

They abandon their cups of tea in the room – Clarke claims that it doesn’t matter and they can ask for new ones when they return – and run down the dunes to the beach side by side. The sand is still pleasantly warm and it tickles their bare feet when their legs get tired and running turns more into dragging. By the time they reach the shore, the sun has lowered to a spot right above the water surface and is almost kissing the sea.

“I’ve never seen a sunset before,” Lexa confesses as they stand there. “At least, not like this.”

Clarke doesn’t immediately respond, so Lexa assumes that she’s wondering how someone can possibly never be at the beach. Not that Clarke’s opinion matters to her. She still carries Octavia’s words in her mind – _enjoy it now that you have the chance._ And enjoying it she does when the reflection of the sun makes the water glitter in all possible places. It takes only a few minutes before it’s over, and then the sky is just dusky with a few leftover orange stripes.

“So did you like it?” Clarke asks beside her. Lexa only realizes now that the baron’s daughter has been looking at _her_ instead of the sunset.

“Yes,” Lexa confirms when she locks her eyes with Clarke’s. She doesn’t know if the blonde feels caught or if she just doesn’t want to make eye contact when she immediately averts her gaze to the sea.

“Sometimes I come down here in my pajamas,” she mutters, rather to herself. “There’s never a person here anyway at this time of the day, so I just sit on a dune and paint it.”

“You paint?”

Clarke shrugs. “I have to give myself something to do. I’m on my own a lot and I don’t have many friends, so.”

Her message is sadder than she wants to show, yet Lexa can feel the emotion that is hidden beneath her words. For a moment, the rich aristocratic daughter that hired her to be her girlfriend disappears, and she sees the real Clarke standing there next to her – just a young girl with her own problems, even if they are of a very different type than her own.

Lexa doesn’t really expect Clarke to accept her hand when she holds it out to her, but she does and entwines their fingers between them. This time it’s not because her parents are watching, but simply because they are gaining each other’s trust and, maybe, becoming friends.

Lexa can still hear the waves in the distance when she's lying in bed with Clarke next to her. The blonde fell asleep just like that, unbothered by the fact that she’s sharing a bed with someone she met only a few hours ago. The actress, on her part, doesn’t feel like sleeping. Before she went to bed, she already called Octavia to tell her that everything was okay, that Clarke was nice and that her parents were buying it. Now, she is actually kind of enjoying this trip. It doesn’t happen often that she doesn’t have to care about dinner or her brother's homework and can just do what she feels like, as long as Clarke is in for it too. She feels like she should try to appreciate every second of this weekend. Most of all, she just wants to go out to the beach again and run over dunes until her legs can’t carry her anymore.

Eventually it is the sound of the waves, accompanied by Clarke’s rhythmic breathing, that makes Lexa’s eyelids heavy and gently rock her to sleep.

* * *

They go swimming the next day.

_They_ are not only Clarke and Lexa, but also Clarke’s parents, who are for once wearing casual shorts and T-shirts instead of their usual fancy clothes – apparently they’ve decided that Lexa is part of the family and shouldn’t be acted formal around anymore.

As the good girlfriend that she is, Lexa offers to help Clarke smear sunscreen. Clarke, on her part, borrows her a pair of sunglasses the brunette ends up liking so much that the blonde insist she keeps them. It is Clarke who first suggests to go to the sea, even though Lexa has spent the most part of the afternoon holding herself back from running straight into the water. They start their walk over the loose sand together, but when they reach the wet part, Clarke starts to run. “First in the water chooses which type of ice cream we’re going to eat!” she yells, while taking a head start over Lexa that she won’t be able to make up for. Seconds later, they’re in to their shoulders and Lexa leans back to let the sea water carry her.

“You’ve won and I’m not even sorry,” she says as she closes her eyes and enjoys the gentle waving of the water. “Besides, your taste in tea is already excellent, so I don’t doubt you’ll pick something nice.”

Because she has her eyes closed, she doesn’t notice it in time when Clarke grins mischievously and then splatters some water in her face. Lexa coughs loudly while she gets back on her feet. “Jesus, and I try to be kind to you.”

“ _Try_ to be?” Clarke raises her eyebrows. “Do you really hate me that much?”

The pout on her face is so heartbreaking that Lexa instantly forgives her for the water splattering. The brunette swims closer to her. “I don’t hate you,” she says genuinely. “In fact, you’re the best girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

That makes Clarke chuckle again. “Out of how many?”

“Well, if you count my theater girl- and boyfriends, then, many. And otherwise, well, two,” she admits shyly.

“Wow.” Clarke studies her up and down. “That’s bizarre. I mean, who wouldn’t want _you?”_

Now it is Lexa’s turn to look surprised. Yet immediately after she says it, Clarke’s cheeks flush red and she creates a little distance between them, obviously ashamed, so Lexa decides to let it go. “What about you?” she inquires. “I mean, you’re pretty, you’re rich…”

“Yeah, that’s about it, right?” Clarke still blushes slightly and she pretends to be observing something under the water surface. “People don’t look past that. You know, I want someone who doesn’t just want me because of who I am. I want someone who wants me for _me_.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone like that,” Lexa says compassionately. “I mean, to me you’re a lot more than just the daughter of a baron.”

“Really?” There’s a glimpse of a smile around Clarke’s lips when she dares to look at Lexa again.

“Yeah. You’re sweet, helpful and generous. You don’t care that I don’t know anything about formal etiquette, or that I have never even been on a decent holiday before or that I don’t own sunglasses. You’re a good listener, easy to talk to, you always seem interested, you don’t judge, and I bet you’re also loyal as hell and an amazing secret keeper. You paint, so you have a creative mind as well. You have good taste in pretty much everything, and you can create these special moments like when we were watching the sunset, or… or this.”

“Go away,” Clarke laughs, although she has trouble to fight the wide grin that is trying to invade her face. “You’re making all of this up to make me feel better.”

“Am I not right then?” Lexa lets herself float on her back again. The sky is crystal blue, with not a single cloud, and seagulls are circling around above her head. It is beautiful, so amazingly peaceful, and it makes her feel bitter to know that all this will be over tomorrow. That she’ll have to go back to her tiny apartment and make her own lunch and go to an audition for some minor part she doesn’t actually want to play. “This is wonderful,” she says to Clarke. “I can’t believe you get to be here as often as you like.”

Clarke is still standing on her feet, not paying attention to the seagulls or the overflying airplanes. When Lexa checks on her, she’s observing the actress with her head tilted to the right.

“Can I paint you?” she asks, a little out of nowhere.

“Me?” Lexa quirks a brow. “How?”

“Just like this, with the sea. It won’t take long, I promise. It’s just… a beautiful sight. One I’d like to remember.”

Her eyes look so eager that it’s hard for Lexa not to agree. The brunette thoughtfully scratches her neck. “Well, okay.”

Clarke rushes to the house to collect her brushes and a canvas, then sits down on the remains of an old breakwater. At first Lexa keeps looking up to the painter, until Clarke tells her to just ignore her and watch the seagulls or something. It’s hard to ignore her, however, while Lexa can almost physically feel the blonde girl’s eyes on her body as she’s sketching her outlines. When Clarke announces a few minutes later that she’s done, Lexa swims towards her.

“Can I see it?”

“It’s not finished yet, I’ll do the sea and the sky later,” Clarke warns, but she does turn the canvas around for her to have a look. It’s a pretty accurate picture of Lexa floating on her back, with dozens of wrinkly waves surrounding her, yet Clarke has painted her way more beautiful than she is in real life.

When Lexa registers the blonde looking at her expectantly, she gives her an impressed look. “You’re really talented. You even manage to make _me_ look good.”

The painter laughs and carefully places the canvas on a clean rock behind her to let it dry in the wind. “That’s nothing I did, that’s all your merit.” She gives Lexa a hand to help her out of the water and then the two girls sit next to each other on the breakwater, their feet in the sea.

“Are you actually gay?” Lexa asks as casually as possible, while keeping her eyes on the shore. Their toes sink lower into the sand as the fresh sea water tickles their ankles and softens their skin. “Or is that just a lie to get out of the marriage?”

“Officially I identify myself as bisexual with a preference for women,” Clarke states. It rolls out of her mouth just as easily as when Lexa would have asked her name.

The actress glances at her from aside, one eye closed against the sunlight and a grin on her face. “Is that just a fancy way to say _lesbian?_ Because I definitely have to remember that one.”

The baron’s daughter chuckles, then she takes her braids out of her hair. Now free to move as they like, her still dry blonde locks wave in the wind and tickle her bare shoulders. Lexa exhales long when she sees her like this; unconcerned, exposed, and above all stunningly beautiful.

“No, I am in fact bisexual,” Clarke explains. “So I can develop feelings for boys and be in relationships with them and be perfectly happy. But it’s all stronger with girls and when I think about my ideal future, I also picture myself with a girl.” She picks up a white shell and carefully brushes the sand off it. “You are gay, right?”

“Oh yeah, one hundred percent.” Lexa manages to avert her stare from Clarke’s mainly uncovered body and she too picks up a shell, this one out of the sea. “The more I have to kiss boys in theater plays, the more convinced I am of that.”

Clarke glances at her and for a moment it looks like she’s about to say something, but then she shudders and wraps her arms tighter around her body. Of course, she’s been sitting in the wind with a wet skin for a pretty long time. Lexa gets up. “You’re cold. I’ll get your towel.” Before Clarke can stop her, the brunette runs toward their spot on the beach to get both their towels. She’s hoping to sneak away unseen, but naturally Abby looks up from her book. 

“Lexa,” she says happily. “Are you having a good time?”

“Very much, Lady Griff- Abby,” she corrects herself. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

The woman waves her gratitude away. “That’s only normal, right? You’re part of the family now.” Her sympathetic smile is a little bit a sting to Lexa’s heart – she hates to lie to these people. Yesterday she still wanted this weekend to be over soon, so that she could leave with the money and not think back of it. But now, she actually grew to like all of this – not only the sea and the dunes, but also the mansion, the carefree lifestyle, the delicious food, _Clarke_ … Somehow she deeply wishes she would be here in other circumstances, like Octavia, as Clarke’s best friend and not as her fake girlfriend. It would for sure not be hard to be friends with Clarke. It _will_ be hard to “break up” with her and never see her again. The more time she spends with her, the more she starts to realize that. 

As if all of this isn’t worse enough, Abby leans closer to the brunette. “Actually I should thank _you_ ,” she says warmly. “I haven’t seen Clarke this happy in months and that’s entirely thanks to you.”

Lexa smiles a little awkwardly. “I try my best.”

“I don’t think you have to try much. You’re such a sweet girl, Lexa.” Abby’s gaze lowers to the towels in her hands and she nods understandingly. “Now go, I’m sorry for holding you up.”

When Lexa walks back to the shore, she’s more confused than she was when she left to get their towels, and therefore doesn’t notice Clarke staring at her until the blonde wades out of the sea towards her. Apparently she went swimming again, and this time her hair is wet as well. Some strands are glued to her cheeks, making her look young and innocent. 

“That took you a while,” Clarke notes as she runs her hands through her hair to shake out the water. 

“Your mother kept me up.” Lexa tries not to stare at her and keeps her eyes on the towel instead. It’s as if she can feel the eyes of the baron and the baroness piercing her back – she knows they are observing them. That’s why, when Clarke abandons her hair, she doesn’t simply _hand_ her the towel, but wraps it around her. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Clarke whispers, even though they are far out of hearing distance from her parents. Yet she doesn’t protest either when Lexa skids closer and gently wipes her shoulders dry. 

“If I play a role, it must at least be a little convincing,” Lexa mumbles when she moves on to her lower arms and later her waist. All the time, Clarke keeps staring at her face. 

“What?” Lexa asks, before she realizes that her hands are somewhere around Clarke’s hips and there’s only a thin towel separating them. 

“Nothing.” The millionaire’s daughter smirks and takes the towel from her to take care of the rest herself. “I was just wondering how you can do this with total strangers. You know, for your acting jobs.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Lexa apologizes as she quickly takes a step back. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” 

“Oh no, you didn’t,” Clarke says hastily, then she closes the distance between them again. “I mean, to me you’re not really a stranger anymore and, well, you’re not a person I would mind having to act with.” A small blush creeps up her cheeks and she quickly focuses on her legs as she wipes them dry. “I was more referring to when you have to kiss a big hairy guy or something like that.” 

“Yeah, well I usually don’t apply for that type of role, but you just kind of have to turn off that button,” Lexa explains. “I mostly picture someone else. And it’s not like real kissing, you know. You only make it _look_ passionate.” 

“And you can do that?” Clarke is done with the drying and simply drops her towel in the sand. There are still tiny little droplets of water on her cheeks and collarbones, caused by her dripping hair, but Lexa decides not to say anything about it – it looks really cute. And also, Clarke is suddenly standing _very_ close and she _really_ doesn't want her to step away.

“Sure,” she begins to answer. “I – oh.”

It starts to sink in to her why Clarke is asking about this. Tentatively, she lowers her gaze to the blonde's lips, a move that is immediately copied by the painter. _Does she truly want to kiss?_

Well, she probably does, Lexa decides. It would for sure take every doubt about their relationship away.

So the actress leans closer slowly, giving Clarke one last chance to prevent this in case she might be wrong, but it is Clarke who gently presses their lips together.

It is a very neat kiss, as neither of them dares to take it any further. Lexa’s hands are still holding her own towel, and one of Clarke’s hesitantly lands on her elbow for a second but it is gone immediately after. Clarke tastes salty like the sea, and her lips really are softer than they look. Even though the kiss is impulsive and shy and rather clumsy, Lexa still feels disappointed when it ends.

Disappointed, and maybe not as confused anymore.

With a wildly beating heart, the brunette takes another second before she opens her eyes. She doesn’t know what to do or say next. Clarke’s kiss is still burning on her lips, and more importantly there's this unmistakable flutter in her lower belly, and she knows how wrong this is and she really wants to deny it, but one look at the girl in front of her makes her forget all her objections.

_Oh my._

“You’re indeed a really good actress,” Clarke says with a hint of a smirk, before she turns back to the breakwater to pick up her painting.

* * *

When they cross the beach to the mansion to get their ice creams, Clarke starts to talk about seagulls and shells and the dunes surrounding their mansion, all as if they haven't just kissed. Yet something changed in the way they behave around each other; occasional stares are abruptly broken down when there is accidental eye contact, the amount of shy smiles has drastically increased, and they somehow end up closely together on Lexa’s towel once they've finished their ice cream cones. By dinner time, Clarke is even using Lexa’s legs as a canvas stand while she continues working on her painting.

They get the news of Finn during dinner. Clearly Lord Griffin doesn’t find it necessary to wait until Lexa has left the room to tell Clarke about the marriage offer, and he has even more fun staring directly at the brunette when he informs them about his decision to turn the offer down. Lexa isn’t such a good actress anymore when she smiles politely in response, not really knowing how to react to this information. The situation has become so complicated; now Clarke has what she wants, but meanwhile Lexa has _actually_ fallen in love with her and craves to be her real girlfriend rather than a fake one. Yet even if Clarke would feel the same way about her, they still can’t be together because her parents now have a completely wrong idea about her identity.

Clarke helps her out by abandoning her plate and running around the table to hug her father. The man laughs. “Clarke, god, did you really think I would give you away to someone you don’t want to be with? I would have asked your opinion first, but given that you are with Lexa I figured it would be a no anyhow.”

Clarke freezes a little. She glances at Lexa over her father’s shoulder, but the latter quickly drops her gaze because she can already feel the blood rushing to her cheeks.

Again, Abby interprets it the wrong way. “No pressure on you, Lexa,” she says soothingly. “We know you haven’t been together for long, take all the time you need.” She throws in a smile, as if she hasn’t just ordered Lexa to marry her daughter someday.

The situation is slowly becoming too much for the actress, especially when she sees the confused look on Clarke’s face. Instead of cutting her mother off by declaring that she shouldn’t say embarrassing things like that, she just stands there deliberately scratching her neck. Probably wondering why she would carry on with this if her parents won’t give her away to Finn anyway, Lexa figures. Suddenly, the delicious farfalle on her plate doesn’t seem so tasty anymore. She puts her cutlery down and takes a gulp of her water, but that doesn’t make it much better.

“Lexa, dear, are you okay?” Abby asks, concerned. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” Lexa murmurs, which is yet another big lie. “Maybe… maybe I just need some fresh air, it’s pretty hot in here.”

The room is airconditioned, but none of the Griffins make a comment about it when Lexa gets up and heads outside without another word. She can only just hear Clarke arguing with her mom before the door falls shut behind her. Sighing, she walks in the direction of the beach and plops down on a dune. It is only when she unties her hair that she finds Clarke’s sunglasses still on top of her head. Somehow, that is what makes her the most sorrowful.

Through the sand, she can’t hear Clarke approaching her until she hears someone clearing her throat directly behind her. Without looking around, Lexa mumbles: “I guess this is when we break up?”

“Actually, I came here to make it up to you.” Clarke sits down next to her so-called girlfriend and hands her a Bacardi Breezer. “Yeah, don’t ask, my dad thinks alcohol is the solution for everything. Speaking of him, I promised him to tell you that my parents are very sorry and did in no way want to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured. And I promised _myself_ to tell you that I hope we will break up as friends, because I kind of like you and I hope this stupid idea didn’t ruin everything and we can still hang out in some way.” She carefully avoids Lexa’s gaze as she says all this and focuses on opening her drink, then hands the opener to the brunette.

“We can still hang out,” Lexa confirms quietly.

Clarke smiles and takes a sip from her Breezer. “Well, that was an easy first fight.”

Lexa now smiles too, not because she feels much better, but just because _Clarke_. The sun is again setting above the ocean, for the second day in a row totally undisrupted by clouds.

“Do you ever watch the sunrise?” Lexa asks unanticipatedly.

“You need to be on the other side of the country for that, love.”

Lexa tries not to blush at Clarke calling her “love”, but isn’t really successful and so she quickly takes a sip from her drink. The alcohol makes her relax a little.

“No, I don’t mean over the sea. I rather mean, you know, just the clouds in the early morning. I bet it’s just as beautiful.”

“I’m not such a morning person,” Clarke mumbles as she rests her head on Lexa’s shoulder. _That_ is enough to make Lexa blush from head to toe, but luckily Clarke can’t see it from this position. “I’m going to miss you,” the blonde girl sighs after a while. “It was nice to have a girlfriend like you, even though you’re not my girlfriend.”

“Same,” Lexa manages to say, although her voice is shivery by the pounding of her heart in her throat – and in every other place she can possibly feel it.

Just as suddenly, Clarke’s proximity is over again and the blonde gets up. “You want another of these Breezer things?” she offers as she taps on her empty bottle. “I swear I’m not an alcoholic like my father, but I do like these.”

Lexa answers with a smile. “Yes, thank you.”

* * *

Their second round of Breezers passes just as easily, and then Clarke comes back with what she claims are virgin mojito’s, though Lexa is not so sure they are actually virgin. The Griffins’ bartender turns out to be an excellent cocktail maker, however, so she doesn’t really care about the alcohol making her head giddy when she paddles through the low water with Clarke. It is colder now, and the tide is high, so they occasionally have to run when a big wave almost drenches their clothes. Once, Clarke actually gets soaked to her ribs and swears loudly as she allows a laughing Lexa to help her onto the beach again. Yet they don’t feel like going out of the water yet and walk along the waterline hand in hand, the water pleasantly tickling their ankles.

With every sip from her cocktail, Clarke seems to get more clingy, and Lexa just lets her. She resolves to remember every exact spot where the blonde girl presses a happy kiss that night – the back of her hand, her shoulder, her cheek, one a little naughtily landing somewhat under her ear and giving her goosebumps all over her body. It isn’t until the sun has completely set and Abby comes to check on them that they decide to go inside.

“Can you dance?” Clarke inquires when they’re climbing the last dune to the mansion’s terrace.

“No.”

“You totally can." Because everything suddenly seems to be funny to her, the blonde bursts out laughing. 

Lexa quirks an eyebrow. “What makes you so certain of that?”

“You would look scared if you couldn’t. Plus, you’re a theater actress, so dancing skills are kind of a necessity. _And_ you just seem the type for it.”

“Okay, maybe I can dance a little.” Lexa purses her lips, wondering if the next step would be that she invites Clarke to dance. Instead, she asks: “Can _you_ dance?”

Clarke laughs even harder now. “Honey, I’m the daughter of a baron. Of course I can dance.” She stops Lexa on the terrace and gives her a challenging look, then makes a small reverence to her. “May I have this dance, miss Woods?” she asks in such a formal way that it makes Lexa chuckle.

“With great pleasure, miss Griffin,” Lexa answers as she accepts her hand and places the other on Clarke’s waist. The blonde raises her brow.

“Are _you_ going to take the lead?”

“I’m taller,” Lexa argues.

“Yeah, like a full five sand grains. Impressive. I don’t think this is going to happen.” The shorter girl takes Lexa’s hand to place it on her shoulder and takes the lead instead. The brunette wants to protest but keeps her mouth shut when she feels the confidence in Clarke’s moves. They don’t even need the music that they can hear playing through the porch door to maintain a good rhythm, and as Clarke’s hand gradually sinks lower on her back and they dance closer and closer, Lexa has trouble to breathe properly.

It becomes too much when Clarke starts to stare at her lips.

The brunette breaks their embrace, though without letting go of Clarke’s hand. “Let’s go inside,” she suggests. “Your parents will be wondering where we a-”

She is cut off by Clarke not moving an inch and roughly pulling her back in by her hand. This time, however, the blonde doesn’t try to dance anymore but simply cups Lexa's cheeks and kisses her full on her lips. The actress’s heart leaps up to her throat and at first she is too flabbergasted to react, but then she confidently places her hands on Clarke’s waist. Thanks to the alcohol, they both have more nerve than they had earlier that day and this kiss is a lot less shy. Still, it leaves Lexa craving for more when their lips break apart.

“Clarke,” she breathes, but the blonde is already pulling her inside the mansion. The door is slammed shut to announce their presence. Only then, Clarke gives her a questioning look. In her blue eyes, the same desire that Lexa feels is reflected, and it is also present in the way the blonde’s hands are pressing low on her hips.

This is a moment that will never come back. It would be stupid to ruin it by talking about feelings.

“Nothing,” Lexa whispers, then she scoops Clarke’s legs off the floor without warning and picks her up in bridal style. The blonde girl yelps at first, but then laughs blissfully and wraps her arms comfortably around Lexa’s neck.

“You’re strong,” she whispers into her ear. One second later, Lexa’s jaw is added to the list of places where Clarke kissed her that night.

Despite Lexa putting her down at the top of the stairs, Clarke refuses to let go of her neck. “I think we’re pretty good at this acting stuff,” she mumbles slowly, while her hands search their way into Lexa’s hair and her fingers curl around the back of her neck. Maybe it’s the alcohol that turns their guards down and leads their minds off the consequences – well, _of course_ it’s the alcohol – but neither of them is too drunk to realize what they’re doing. Tipsy, maybe. But not the kind of end-up-in-bed-with-a-stranger drunk. 

Still, Lexa kisses Clarke. It might count as making use of the moment, but who knows how little chances she might still get to kiss her. Clarke’s lips feel familiar by now, and they respond eagerly, in a way that is nothing like theater kissing anymore. The girls stumble through the hall to their room without breaking apart, and even when they’re inside, Lexa simply pins Clarke against the door and lets her lips wander over the sensitive skin of her neck. Clarke tilts her head back to give her more room while she groans softly in the back of her throat. 

“You know, we aren’t anywhere near my parents,” she murmurs teasingly.

“Mmyeah but your lips are so soft,” Lexa protests as she moves back up to reunite their lips. She doesn’t want to stop kissing her, even though she knows it’s wrong and she can’t fall in love with a girl that _hired_ her only to avoid an arranged marriage. But Clarke’s lips are indeed immensely soft and kissing her feels so _good_ and Lexa is so attracted to her that it’s simply impossible to quit.

She’s still fighting with her own common sense when Clarke’s fingers sneak under her T-shirt. Lexa automatically leans back to let her take it off – she hopes that maybe this will bring Clarke in line with the reality, so that she doesn’t have to do that herself. Instead, Clarke immediately crashes their lips back together and pushes Lexa toward the bed. The brunette is completely taken aback by the other girl’s dominance and when Clarke climbs on top of her, her every feeling of responsibility is far, far gone. Their bikinis are still wet and quickly join each other on the parquet floor, and then there’s just them and a bunch of sheets, and Clarke’s breath heavy against Lexa's neck. 

“Lexa, tell me how wrong this is.” Her tone is almost begging, like she wants to stop but can’t make that decision herself, but they’ve come way too far and Lexa can’t think of anything else than this beautiful body hovering over her with really no layers separating them.

“You’re… attractive,” is all she can breathe out in response. 

Clarke gives her a deep look, then bends down slowly, so that Lexa eagerly reaches out to her. Right before their lips touch, however, she changes direction and aims for her neck instead. Lexa has to hold herself back from whining as Clarke’s touches are making her skin heated and her eyes dark with desire. Clarke increases the longing flutter between her legs by straddling her, then finally answers her needy lips with a sweep of tongue that leaves Lexa totally breathless.

Seconds later, she feels that same tongue down where she most craves it to be, and her hands clutch the sheets as she arches her head back into the pillow and breathes out Clarke’s name.

* * *

The next morning, Lexa wakes up to the gentle lulling of the high tide in the distance, and first feels the blissful warmth that is filling her entire body before she remembers why it is there. Clarke is used to the sound of waves rolling over the sand and easily sleeps through it, with her arm a faint pressure on Lexa’s waist and her hair a blonde mess on both of their pillows. Lexa turns on her back slowly, trying not to wake her up. But Clarke’s eyelids flutter once, twice, and then she moves her arm tighter around Lexa and snuggles her face more against the crook of her neck. 

Lexa chuckles and presses a kiss onto her forehead. “Don’t pretend that you’re still asleep,” she whispers. “The sun is up and we have again missed it.” 

“I’ll watch the stupid sunrise with you another time, just not now,” Clarke mumbles back. Her lips tickle Lexa’s neck as she speaks, a pleasant sensation that makes the brunette lean more into the touch. 

“Alright, so you actually _do_ plan to hang out with me after today,” she notes with a smug grin.

That was a misplaced remark, she realizes too late, since Clarke lifts up her head to give her a sleepy yet confused look. “Oh,” she utters, in a tone that is first and foremost utterly disappointed. 

“No, no, no, don’t take it that way, I’d love to do so too,” Lexa says quickly. Still, Clarke withdraws her arm and moves more to her own side of the bed, increasing the distance between them. “Really,” Lexa adds, her tone now a little more down.

“Okay.” Clarke gives her a wry smile. “You know, it’s just… Octavia warned me that you were only doing this for the money, so in spite of me developing a huge crush on you, I’ve always kept that in mind. But last night, I…” She awkwardly purses her lips into a tight line. “I might have been wrong, but for a moment I really thought we… could be something. Maybe.” 

Lexa props herself up on one elbow. “We can,” she says resolutely, while her hand searches Clarke’s in between them. Nevertheless, the blonde’s smile remains rather sad. Lexa sits more up, a serious look on her face. “This wasn’t just a one night thing to me, Clarke. Well, actually it was, but only because I thought you didn’t feel the same way about me. But if you do…” Her voice trails off and she bites her lip when she sees the look on Clarke’s face.

“You’re worrying about your parents,” Lexa concludes. That’s what she has been fearing all along, but to have it confirmed like this feels like a knife stabbing her heart. _Is she really not going to be able to be with Clarke just because she isn’t a med student and her parents aren’t doctors and she doesn’t play golf and they’ve been lying about that?_

In each case, she’s not going to give this up without a fight. Lexa moves closer to Clarke and kisses her shoulder. “I want to be with you,” she ensures. “I’m in love with you, Clarke.” She continues her kissing up the blonde’s neck towards her jaw. Somewhere halfway, the blonde meets her lips and tenderly brushes Lexa’s hair back as she deepens their kiss. They are still awfully naked, though neither of them complains about that when Lexa rolls half on top of Clarke. Like yesterday, she just wants to forget about time and place and feel this girl as close to her as possible, now that she still can. Yet before she gets the chance to do so, the blonde escapes the kiss and pushes Lexa back on the mattress. Her heart promptly sinks in her chest

“I want to be with you too,” Clarke quickly secures, her hand lovingly caressing Lexa’s cheek. “But I need to be honest with my parents, otherwise we’ll never get to be together.” She slips out of the bed, not at all caring that Lexa is watching her when she skims through her wardrobe looking for underwear.

“What are you going to do?” Lexa asks with wide eyes and a wildly beating heart.

“I’m going to tell them.” The blonde girl pulls a T-shirt over her head – a heather grey one with a drawing of a smiling watermelon at the front, which makes her look so cute that Lexa has trouble to hide her smirk.

“Wait, I’m going with you,” the actress says as she flings her legs out of the bed, but Clarke is quick to push her down again.

“No, I put you through enough trouble already. It’s my task to fix this.” She gives her a soft peck on her lips, then leaves the room.

“Yeah, right,” Lexa mumbles before she gets out of the bed to get dressed. 

* * *

Lexa doesn’t immediately burst into the kitchen, but waits by the door where she can hear Clarke and Abby talking.

“You’re almost thirty, Clarke, isn’t it normal that we worry about your future?” Abby asks in an indignant voice. There is a sizzling sound in the background that appears to be the frying of eggs. Soon after, Lexa catches the delicious smell of bacon.

“I’m _twenty-four_.” Clarke’s voice is high and upset. “Mom, I don’t want to marry just because dad wants to tell his stupid friends that his daughter has settled down.”

“Listen, young lady, we give you a lot of freedom already. You have no idea how much time I've spent convincing your dad that we should let you marry a girl if that’s what you want. You know how we think about sex before marriage, yet we let you sleep with her. I’m not saying you should marry tomorrow, all I ask is that you talk to her to find out where she is, so that you won’t waste your time on her.”

“Mom!” Clarke produces a disbelieving gasp. “That’s not… _god_.”

“That’s not _what_ , Clarke?” Judging by the noise Abby makes, she’s angrily dropping some kitchen tool on the counter. “Have you seen her reaction when I brought up the topic yesterday? And all I said was that she could take as much time as she wanted, _for god’s sake_.”

Lexa’s fingers tighten around the door frame. This is not the type of conversation that follows from telling someone you faked a relationship with a girl you’ve never seen before. It starts to sink in to her that this is probably the pursuit of their argument last night, that started when Lexa stormed out of the house in the middle of dinner. If they are already fighting over _that_ , then these are far from ideal conditions to tell Abby the actual truth about her.

“What about me? Are you ever bothered about what _I_ want?” Clarke’s voice skips in her fury.

“All the time,” Abby counters.

“Well, not about the one thing you _should_ be concerned about, then.” Clarke sighs and her anger fades a little when she continues. “My happiness. I know you’ve never known something outside the traditions your parents taught you, but you can’t force me to believe them when I just don’t. I believe in _love_. And if Lexa doesn’t want to marry me, then I don’t care. I didn’t fall for her because of her status or whatever, I fell for her personality. And I know she also fell for mine, and you might not understand this but _that_ is all I ever wanted in life. Knowing that her love is sincere is enough for me. And I just want to be with her, in no matter what way.”

Lexa leans her cheek against the cold door frame and breathes out long when she hears Clarke’s love confessions. If this wouldn’t be such a weird and tense situation, she would for sure melt inside.

It is quiet for a long time, in which Lexa gets slightly worried about what is happening in the kitchen. Then, she hears Abby mumble: “I didn’t know your relationship was so serious.”

Again, Clarke sighs, deeper this time. “Well, mom, about that, there’s something you should know.”

The blonde girl sounds defeated, and maybe even downright scared. Lexa bites her lip, preparing for what is to come.

“About Lexa,” Clarke continues. “She, uh…” Another sigh. By the door, the brunette closes her eyes.

“What?” Abby sounds really worried right now, yet it takes her daughter another endless time to make up a way to proceed. It is just too painful to hear. With a heavy gulp, Lexa assembles her courage and then walks in.

“Lady Griffin,” she starts, which yields her a disapproving look from Clarke’s mom – yet given that the baroness might kick her out of the house in about thirty seconds, it feels better to be formal. “Marriage is not the problem.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Clarke giving her a wide-eyed look. Even in this painful moment, that bit of innocent hope warms her heart. “I mean, it’s really too early to talk about that, but, well, I’m not against it, so when the time comes, I wouldn’t see why not,” she explains sheepishly, rather to Clarke than to Abby. Both women shift their position a little, Clarke more in an anxious way and Abby rather utterly confused. Lexa takes a deep breath. _It’s now or never._

“However, I lied about my identity.”

Immediately, the kitchen goes deafeningly quiet. Even the eggs don’t seem to make any noise anymore. When she checks, Abby’s expression is slowly changing to an emotion that Lexa doesn’t quite want to see. She averts her gaze to the floor before she continues. “I _am_ Lexa Woods and I _am_ from Manchester and I _do_ have a younger brother. But I’m an actress and not a med student, and I rent a one-room apartment in a terraced house uptown, and my parents have never been doctors. My mother died of cancer and my biological father doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, and Aden’s father is in jail so I take care of him on my own.”

This last information is new for Clarke as well. In spite of everything, the blonde girl closes the distance between them and laces her fingers through Lexa’s to let her know that she supports her. The actress gives her a grateful smile before she continues. “I lied about that because I’m well aware that my background isn’t exactly what you have in mind for your daughter. I just don’t want to lose her because…” Her words get stuck in her throat until a light squeeze of Clarke’s fingers encourages her to go on.

“Because I love her.”

She locks her eyes with Clarke’s when she says those last words. It is soon for a message like this, insanely soon if she thinks about it, but deep down she knows these words feel right. She knows what Clarke is like; yesterday she spent every second with this girl and she fell for her harder and harder with every moment they shared. And then last night – they both tried to avoid it, but in the end it was just inevitable. So when Clarke answers her confession with a smile, Lexa knows she doesn’t regret anything that happened between them.

“I love her too,” Clarke says without taking her eyes off Lexa. “I don’t care about her background. What matters to me is that I feel good with her, and I do.” Her smile widens a little. “I really do. More than with anyone else.”

Both girls now look at Abby, feeling each other’s nervous heartbeats through their wrists that are pressed together. The baroness blinks her eyes a few times, then scratches her neck. “Uh, wow. That’s a lot of information at once.”

At that moment, the butler bursts into the kitchen, right in time to save the eggs from a cruel death. He skillfully adds the bacon to the frying pan and seasons the entire thing with salt and pepper. One look at it is enough for Lexa’s stomach to react with a hungry grunt. Sterling turns to Abby. “Ma’am, shall I already prepare your tea or do you need a moment?” he asks politely.

“No, prepare it.” Abby thoughtfully pinches the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply. Then, she finally eyes the two girls, her brow furrowed. Lexa can already feel her heart sinking in her chest and she turns her eyes to the floor, defeated.

“Look, Lexa, I told you that I find you an nice girl and I don’t know why that would change because of this. It’s true that this is not quite what we had in mind for Clarke and I don’t appreciate it that you lied to us-”

“That’s entirely my fault, mom,” Clarke interrupts. “It was my idea. I just flipped when you asked me what her parents did because I was afraid of your reaction.”

“I’ll have a word with _you_ later,” Abby snarls without looking at her daughter. “Anyway, what I was trying to say to you, Lexa, is that if you truly love Clarke, your background or our judgement shouldn’t be the reason why you can’t be with her. Besides, I do see that you’re good to her.”

Lexa nods thankfully and almost crushes Clarke’s hand with how tightly she’s holding on to her. _This is happening. She’ll get to date Clarke for real, she’ll…_

“But first, of course, I’ll have to discuss this with Jake.”

_…and we’re brought down to earth again._

Lexa sighs. “Naturally.”

* * *

“You’re a really bad girl, Clarke,” Lexa utters when she’s lying in bed a good half hour later, her chest rising and falling in a quick rhythm and Clarke watching her from aside with a grin on her face.

“Why, as if that _no sex before marriage_ thing wasn’t ruined anyway.” For the second time that day, Clarke gets out of bed to collect her clothes, and for the second time Lexa cringes slightly at the idea of getting up.

“I mean, you should lock me out of the house until your parents have decided what they’re going to do with me,” she clarifies.

“I don’t care what they decide.” Clarke assembles Lexa’s clothes from the floor as well and drops them on the bed as a messy pile. “You should get dressed, Octavia can be here any minute.”

The brunette does as she says, and then hurries to pack up her stuff so that she can spend some more precious time with Clarke. They decide to sit down on the terrace where they can see both the driveway and the sea, with their legs dangling down through the banister bars and their toes only just touching the sand.

“Do you remember the first thing I said to you?” Lexa inquires.

“That you’ve missed me.” Clarke is staring dreamily at the water in the distance, her chin resting on her hand on the banister.

“Yeah, well it didn’t mean much then, but I feel like it’s definitely going to in the next weeks.” She sighs deeply. “And I’m going to miss this place too. I wish we could make a long beach walk, have a picknick in the dunes, build a sand castle…” Clarke takes her eyes off the sea to quirk an eyebrow at her. “Okay, I’ve just always wanted to do that,” Lexa says defensively. “And I also want to watch the sunrise,” she adds, like a little kid begging for another cookie.

Clarke laughs heartily. “We’ll do all of those things, I promise. But only if you rescue me from my parents’ manor every now and then when I’m back in town. I hate it there, it’s boring, and I want to see more of the real world out there. With you.”

Lexa locks their eyes. “So you really don’t care what your parents decide?”

The blonde shakes her head. “I won’t let them keep me away from you. I don’t want some rich viscount’s son. I want you.”

Lexa opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. Instead, she leans sideways to kiss her _real_ girlfriend. 

Their lips only barely brush before they hear a car coming to a halt on the driveway. Both girls sigh and pull away from each other, even though they really don’t want to.

“You know, in fact I already miss you right now,” Lexa mumbles when she helps Clarke up.

“I’ll call you. Today,” the blonde promises.

A car door slams loudly, announcing that Octavia has gotten out and is probably heading towards the front door. She’ll soon see them on the terrace, so Clarke quickly pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket and hands it to Lexa.

The brunette accepts it with a frown, and seconds later her eyebrows shoot upwards when she sees it’s a five thousand pound bank cheque.

“I tip high,” Clarke comments nonchalantly. “And before you’re going to tell me that I shouldn’t do this – I really don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or something, but I promised you this and I know you took this on as a job because you need the money, so please don’t feel bad about it.”

Before Lexa can react, Octavia sees them and waves joyfully. “Guys, I’m here!” she yells, as if they didn’t know that already.

Clarke waves back, but she keeps her gaze glued to Lexa, who’s ignoring Octavia completely and simply staring at the cheque in her hands. It can solve so many of her problems and she knows this is no big deal to Clarke, but still she feels like she can’t accept this.

That’s why, after what must be a minute, she gives it back to the blonde and folds her fingers around the little piece of paper. “It doesn’t matter what I came for, I’m leaving with something way better,” she whispers, while stealing a deep look into her blue eyes.

Clarke gulps, hesitates, gulps again, and then flings her arms around Lexa’s neck and kisses her with all the love she has in her. They don’t care about Octavia, whose jaw drops to the floor when she realizes that this kiss is in no way fake – later she will praise herself for playing Cupid for her two best friends, but in that moment all she can do is staring and wondering how on earth this has happened in just one weekend. Clarke doesn’t care that her parents can see them through the window, and that their ongoing argument stops abruptly when they realize they have no right to ruin the scene that is playing in front of their eyes. Lexa doesn’t care that she feels Clarke slipping the cheque securely into the back pocket of her jeans – she knows this girl cares about her and doesn’t want her to be hungry tonight. There’s simply nothing in the world they care about when they stand there on Clarke’s terrace, just two girls that fell in love – it’s nothing else than that.

* * *

Clarke calls her before she and Octavia even leave the coast line. Lexa picks up immediately and Octavia wisely focuses on the road, even though her questions are far from answered yet.

“Lex.” Judging by her voice, Clarke has been crying. The brunette's heart skips a beat and she presses her phone closer to her ear to make sure she doesn't miss a letter.

“Clarke, are you okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry, I’m… yes.” She can almost hear the blonde smiling through the phone. “I just called to ask if you want to stay over next weekend. We’ll still be here.”

A wide grin starts to spread across Lexa’s face when she realizes what this has to mean, and she too feels tears welling up in her eyes. “Yes,” she answers before the lump in her throat becomes too big to talk. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”

Octavia questioningly quirks her eyebrow, but again Lexa ignores everything around her - as she also will when Clarke will repeat those exact words one year later, with Lexa sitting on her knee in front of her. And Lexa’s answer will be the same three words that she says right now, although she’ll not be sitting in a car and the words will be accompanied by their longest hug so far.

“I love you.”


End file.
